You think you know me. You have a piece of information about me. You know a small ripple in an ocean so deep it cannot be mapped. You don’t know my topography. You have no idea where my curves lie. There are no signs. There are no clear landmarks. You have no lights to lead the way. You only have your small piece of information. Yet, you feel like you know me. You feel like you know me so well that you now own a piece of me and with that piece of me, you now feel like you can control me.
It makes me giggle. It makes me laugh so hard my waves rise up and smash into you standing on the shores of my ocean. You think you read a few chapters of some stories I gently place in your path and suddenly we’re buds? You think we have a couple of chats or exchange a few tweets and now we’re besties?
You don’t know me. You haven’t earned the right to know the real me. You see, very few and I do mean a very miniscule amount of people have ever reached the testing ground, the ship if you will, the beginning of the journey that is me.
You see, I’m just like anyone else. I have scars and wounds. I have depths that I keep hidden and I cover with silence or humor. I’m not “different” and I’m not “special” for any of the tribulation I’ve gone through, but I have survived. One of my friends once said “it’s the survived you must fear” and he was right. We have nothing to lose. We already understand the pain of losing everything and that we are strong enough to survive it. We have learned and evolved.
Your assumption of who I am could get you hurt. Admit it, how many times a day do you think of me already?